


An Ocean Amongst Flame

by REINDOWN



Series: A Future of Outstretched Arms [12]
Category: Gintama
Genre: Alternate Universe - Supernatural Elements, Hot, Love, M/M, Relationship(s), Romance, Supernatural Elements, Vampires
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-11
Updated: 2017-01-11
Packaged: 2018-09-16 20:31:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,800
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9288494
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/REINDOWN/pseuds/REINDOWN
Summary: He couldn't see his reflection and that was certainly ... odd. It was just the most recent in a week of disastrous oddities that would only get, well, predatory.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This is part of a collection of one shots, drabbles etc. of Gintama. If you enjoy this, then please take a look at the rest of the series~

He couldn't see his reflection and that was certainly … odd. Gintoki waved, jumped, smashed the god-damn mirror because it hadn't served its one and only purpose. He had raced home from buying JUMP because usually, you know, when you're out and about, you catch glimpses of yourself walking by. But he had gradually noticed (with several double takes and a triple take) that he wasn't there. He checked for hidden cameras and ran past every shop, staring with a gaping expression (or so he expected because hell, how would he know?) through at shop windows. Nope nope nope. This wasn't happening. It was the not-so-sweet topping to end a week of disastrous oddities.

First, people wouldn't stop asking him if he was okay. Well, better put and closer to the truth, they wouldn't stop telling him to go away in case they caught whatever he had. His pallor had turned a pasty white, like chalk, but he felt fine. A little cold to the touch, but fine. He wondered if he was coming down with something, but apparently 'idiots didn't catch colds'. That offered him little comfort. Honestly though, maybe he was just suffering from sugar withdrawals because he didn't even have a sniffle.  
Until the next day, where he had suffered his first ever allergic reaction. Eating pasta? Of all things? Shinpachi had made the meal and Gintoki even wondered if Otae's genes had infected him because even the smell of the tomatoey sauce was making him gag. He chomped it down because he was damn near starving (nothing he was eating had been filling his stomach recently) but the whole thing came straight back up with a rash as an added bonus. He just really needed a drink.  
Except that no amount of alcohol had taken the edge off. Hasegawa was floating between drunk and dead and Gintoki, on twice the liquid, hadn't even lost one of his marbles. The room was standing perfectly still for him and downing cups of sake was like drinking pints of water. It went straight in, straight out. Eventually, he called it a day and decided he must have evolved into a superhuman. The constant exposure to alcohol in him had caused his liver to undergo natural selection and unfortunately that meant sacrificing his intolerance for alcohol. Or maybe he was so drunk he didn't even realise. He was in his own drunk dream world while in reality, he teetered on the edge of a barstool. He was monologuing nonsense, so maybe this was true.  
Trying to get to sleep that night had been impossible and it was about 6am when he finally felt fatigued. This must have messed up his biological clock because he found himself buzzing on a high during the night and dragging himself from job to job during the day with this searing headache under the sunlight that just wouldn't pass with paracetamol. 

He really must be coming down with something.

The alarm clock sounded one morning and he hit the button in half a second – he was already awake anyway. He had been the entire night and this insomnia had him feeling sick to the pit of his stomach on mere hours of sleep each day. For sure though, he'd be close to dropping off by 10 o'clock even though he had been trembling with energy all night. He wasn't sure if it was to do with Kagura's ridiculously loud snoring, either. Was his hearing getting better, or was she sleeping with an elephant these days? Who knew. All he was aware of was the painfully loud screech of breath in his ears, in out, in out, in out … All. Night. 

He broke a lot of things the next day. He grasped the door handle with one hand and tore the whole thing off leaving him locked in the bathroom whining at Kagura to help. He tossed a pen over to his desk and the thing careered like a javelin straight through the window. The closed window. He blamed his sleeplessness. What else could he blame? Maybe he was just cursed by a malicious spirit. He really hoped that wasn't the case. But things broke that weren't related to his physical force, and he couldn't put that down to tiredness. Watches, alarm clocks, the TV, they all made a sharp crackle at his touch and ceased to function. Gengai had been bombarded with all sorts over the past week and Gintoki had long since ran out of favours to call on.

Losing his reflection was the last straw.

“K-k-k-k-kagura?” a sharp whine sounded from his lips.   
“What's wrong, old man?” She slid open his bedroom door and began to frown at the scene before her. “Seven years of bad luck if you break one of those. Did you look into it?”  
“I did but mirror mirror on the wall, _where the hell am I?_ ” He lifted one of the shards and pointed into it at his, or lack of, reflection.  
“Existential crisis?” She scratched her head.  
“It's one hell of an existential crisis!” Gintoki screeched. “I'm not _there!_ ”  
Kagura just gave him a look and cast a half-hearted remark over her shoulder as she went back to petting Sadaharu, “it's probably better that way.”

Just then, Gintoki stopped short. The sweetest aroma drifted into his nostril. He turned his head like a dog to better pick up on where it was coming from, but he could tell that he was far away from the source. The smell was better than a chocolate and strawberry parfait and _damn_ … he couldn't get enough of it. It gave him a buzz, an electric pulse in his fingertips bringing him to his feet; all thoughts of the mirror had vanished. His blood was rushing through his veins, empowering him. He vaguely heard the sound of Shinpachi's footsteps padding up the stairway outside to their front door and the soft _shiik_ of it opening for him, but he was completely distracted by that smell. The draft of air pulled through the doorway brought with it a stronger tinge of the scent. He was up and out of the apartment lightning quick, so fast that if he had stopped to think about it, he would have even called it inhuman.

“Eh, was that Gin-san?” Shinpachi asked as a flash of silver bolted past him and vanished.  
“He's having a crisis.” Kagura said, waving her hand dismissively.  
“Eh?”

Damn, he was aroused by the taste in his mouth, the prick of sugar on his tongue, the dance of flavours in the air. He was propelled towards it, eyes flashing animalistically because he was running entirely on instinct. His feet barely touched the ground. His mouth was dry and the only thing that could sate his palate was whatever he was careering towards. In fact, where was he? He wasn't even thinking enough to know. He was just following his gut and it was taking him directly towards - 

“G-Gintoki?” Hijikata blinked twice. Yamazaki looked up too, pausing what he was doing. Gintoki panted, but he wasn't tired from running. His heart was pounding but no, it wasn't the exercise. The shiver in his hands, the pleasant high he was currently riding on powered by endorphins, the ferocious glint in his eyes … He suddenly knew what was going on. The cause of his crazed being was now in front of him and he knew what he was, what he had become.  
“Danna?” Yamazaki put the spare dressing back into the first aid box beside him and stood up from where he had knelt. Gintoki only had eyes for Hijikata, or rather, the pulsating red zone on his neck. “Ah, one of Sougo's pranks went too far and the shrapnel caught him. He's fine though, it's just a scratch.” Gintoki ignored him, his eyes glued to that luscious red strip of meat- skin. The words Hijikata had to say were caught in his throat. He couldn't even ask what was going on. The predatory glint to Gintoki's eyes pinned him to the floor and he felt something he couldn't explain. He rushed to cover his neck with one hand and Gintoki visibly stiffened. 

“I guess I'll take my leave,” Yamazaki mumbled, slipping from the room with a small mutter of indignation for being treated as a side character.

Once he was gone, Gintoki tried to catch his breath, but it continued to escape from him in large puffs. He blinked quickly and turned his back on Hijikata, shoulders rising to suck in air.   
“What's wrong, yorozuya?” Hijikata asked, hesitantly. He didn't remove his hand from his neck. Something deep inside him commanded him to keep it hidden – something, he imagined, that knew better than him what was going on.  
“Today,” Gintoki laughed, eerily. “I disappeared.” He continued to giggle to himself, ruffling his hair with unsteady hands. “Yesterday, I threw a pen further than the other end of an airport runway. The day before, I began to hear conversations from three houses down. Before that ...” Gintoki continued, voice breaking, “I had an allergic reaction to garlic. And right now,” he turned back, eyes glinting redder than ever with an inhuman glow. “I can't keep my hands off you.” Was that … a fang?  
“What're you ...” Hijikata began, but he was silenced when Gintoki licked his lips and a sudden shudder of anticipation ran through him a mere second before Gintoki was on top of him. His arms were pinned by an immovable force and – fuck! Had he always been this strong? 

The fresh dressing on his neck was peeled off slowly and the warm lick of a tongue ran down his neck. Hijikata wanted to protest but no words would come out. All sound was stuck in this throat so he let Gintoki leave a trace of red hot saliva across his collarbone. Gintoki stopped for a second, a shudder visibly juddering his whole body as he tried to conceal an urge that wanted to burst out of him. Warm breath tickled his neck, prickling the hairs on his body.   
“G-in … toki.” He panted, unable to struggle, unable to resist. The weight on his waist remained but Gintoki held back. His breathing was impossibly fast.  
“T-tell me no,” he grunted, lips brushing sore skin on the wound. “Say it quick, stop me.”  
“What are you-”   
“Say it!” Gintoki hissed, a thunderous boom echoing his words. “Or I don't know what I'll do.”  
“... Then carry on.” Hijikata said, finding confidence where he should have none, keeping a calm tone when his head was a mess and a cold sweat was drying on his forehead. He should be shouting. He should be pushing Gintoki away, but... “Let's find out,” he said, meeting Gintoki's burning fire with a calm, blue ocean.

**Author's Note:**

> This will be the second to last in this series, A Future Of Outstretched Arms. Currently planning the next series with hopefully more of a running theme ... in the meantime, you know what to do ;) (watch Gintama 2017 duh)


End file.
